Amestris Set Ablaze
by michael3129
Summary: An Aerugonian forced onto the battlefield at a premature age had to survive in the trenches and the constant onslaught of a much more powerful country. After being captured, brain-washed and forced to kill his own allies, he rediscovers who his enemies truly are. He has but one objective; to kill Fuhrer Bradley. *first fan fic I've ever written if you guys like it, Ill write more*


Chapter 1

The Assault on the Line

"Wake up!" this harsh command rang in Blaise's ears as he was roused from his slumber. The man who had awoken him in such a barbarous manner stooped over him imposingly. He had a thick handlebar mustache that was neatly groomed along with a coiffure of hair on his head that was swept over to the left side of his head, and had been neatly waxed. His tall solid body loomed over Blaise as Blaise attempted to keep the sun that was creeping around the large man's form from hitting his weary eyes.

The battery of artillery, and the firing of machine guns clamored from the battle outside the confines of Blaise's room. Every time an artillery shell hit the ground the force of its impact and following combustion reverberated deep within Blaise's chest. The cracking of rifle and machine gun fire were like so many hammer falls upon Blaise's ears, each cartridge fired effectuated a cringe from Blaise. One particularly close mortar resounded in Blaise's skull. An inhuman scream followed said explosion which was then answered with a man shouting "Vittorio! Don't die now, Vittori! I promised your mother I'd get you ba-!" The man's shouting was cut off and replaced by a wet gurgling sound, with the applause of machine gun fire.

"Shouldn't have put his head up, that's how ya get it." Blaise thought. The silhouette of the man who woke him brought him back to reality.

"Geez! Is that how you talk to a senior officer?" Blaise muttered jokingly. At Blaise's comment the mustached man stood erect and walked briskly and coldly out of Blaise's quarters. Blaise stood up and stretched, thinking "Still hates my guts, huh?"

He put a white cotton button-down shirt, and black breeches on over his boxers and a simple cotton tee. Strung around his waist was a belt, weaving its way through, his belt loops. On the belt were two holsters occupied with two 1911 pistols. Reaching over to his bed stand, he grabbed a katana from where it was leaning. Slipping the katana through his belt, and then tying the strings on the sheath to said belt, Blaise fastened the sword to his hip. Hanging over the foot of his bed was a long, grey coat. Blaise glanced at it momentarily and then proceeded to attach two sets of bars to his collar, to signify his rank as captain.

"Such a heavy coat would only slow me down, not to mention that it would let the enemy snipers know that I am an officer." Blaise thought.

Blaise had a head of hair that seemed to, of its own accord, sweep over to the left. His hair was very thick and brown. Vibrant, green eyes radiated from their sockets, yet somehow it seemed as if the light that glowed in his eyes was dying and had already dimmed considerably. He was of medium build, medium height, and looked to be about 17.

Walking out of his quarters, the sounds of mortar shells making impact, machine guns spewing their deadly projectiles from black mouths and the anguished screams of dying men hit him like a wall. His quarters led straight into a narrow trench, that was filled with corpses and men with their backs pressed up against the wall of the trench, knuckles white as they clenched their rifles in anxiety. Ankle deep mud was the only footing available. A sparse amount of wooden boards held back the wall of mud that made up the trench from caving in. the stench of blood, gunpowder, and human excrement all joined together to create a horrific symphony of smells that assailed Blaise's nostrils. A cold drizzle fell from the heavens and soaked all of the men to the bone.

"First Lieutenant Mascari reporting, sir!" someone to Blaise's right yelled. Looking to his right, Blaise noticed the man who had awoken him giving a sharp salute. "We believe the enemy is about to make a charge. Our supply trucks were hit last night, so we lack ammunition, in another five minutes we will be completely out of munitions. Considering our deplorable conditions I do not believe we will be able to hold this trench if and when the Amestrians attacks." Blaise turned to his left and grabbed one of the many infantry men running by him.

"Fetch me my rifle from my quarters." He commanded calmly. At the sudden stop the man's helmet flew off of his head and plopped into the mud a little to the right of Blaise. Blaise stooped down, picked up the helmet and clapped it back down onto the man's head. He was shivering and completely drenched in rain. Looking to be in his early twenties, he wasn't much older than Blaise.

With the soldiers failure to reply Blaise shouted, "Name?"

Now returned to reality, the man glanced down at Blaise's collar, noticed Blaise's superior rank, and shouted, "Private Tuvio, sir!"

Blaise repeated his previous command slowly and clearly, "Fetch me my rifle from my quarters."

"Sir!" Tuvio repeated, and then disappeared through the doorway Blaise had previously walked through. Several minutes later he came scrambling out, a rifle with a scope in his arms and a bandolier with several magazines on it slung over his shoulder. "I also g-grabbed y-y-your ammo, s-sir. " He stammered as Blaise took the gun from him.

After Blaise had collected both the rifle and the ammunition he sighed, "Good, now back to your station, and keep your head down." Tuvio cautiously crawled to Blaise's right, but was swept forward by the constant stream of men running through the trench.

"Where is the rest of the SASA?" Blaise questioned Mascari.

"They should be here any minute now, sir." He answered.

"Why did HQ have to call them back from the front right now?" Blaise exhaled. Mascari didn't answer.

Blaise set his rifle to his shoulder and brought the scope up to his eye. At first all he could see was movement and the occasional blue blur of the Amestrian uniforms, but after he set the scope to the proper distance, he could see the Ametrian's trench perfectly. One man, an officer, had his back to Blaise and was barking out commands to the infantry men running through the trench. His head made a marvelous target for any skilled sniper as it peeked right over the edge of the trench.

Blaise pulled back the bolt on his rifle to see if his gun was loaded; it was. He pushed the bolt back forward, chambering a round, and sighted down the scope again. The officer hadn't moved.

"Breath. Concentrate." Blaise thought, "Mercy isn't going to save my life on the battlefield but killing an Amestrian CO might. Gentle squeeze of the trigger…. Fire. Now!"

The shot of Blaise's rifle echoed through his head. The bullet had ripped through the officer's head and where he had just been bellowing order there was now only a drifting pink mist. Ducking back into cover Blaise narrowly dodged enemy machine gun and sniper fire.

"Tell the men to fix bayonets, I just prompted an enemy assault." Blaise commanded Mascari.

Mascari roared, with a look of disgust on his face, "Fix bayonets! Prepare for an enemy assault!"

His command quickly spread down the full length of the Trench. Men frantically fumbled to attach their bayonets to their rifles, and some screamed in frustration, as their hands shook out of control. One man, tears pouring down his face, cut his hand on his bayonet as he fumbled with it. Seeing his scarlet blood pour from the gash in his hand, he hastily threw his rifle away from him, and clutched his hand, screaming, "I've been shot those maggots shot me!"

Some of the men around him tried to calm him down but he shoved them away and shouldered his way through them, a vicious snarl on his face. To no avail he attempted to retreat over the trench wall, scrambling over his own feet as he clutched his bleeding hand to his chest, only to be peppered by machine gun fire. The first shot tore through his head, only leaving half of his skull intact. He would've fallen from that head shot had he been allowed to, but many more bullets burrowed new cavities into his torso, and the impact of those projectiles held him in place until the machine gun fire ceased. He fell back into the trench a broken man, the life pushed out of him.

A roar echoed across the field in between the two trenches, no man's land. Blaise's men stirred anxiously.

"Prepare for the assault." Blaise growled, which was then echoed by Mascari in a roar.

A wave of men led by some horses rushed from the trench opposed to Blaise. The tidal wave of men crushed all in its path, including some of the unfortunate men who tripped. Compared to the constant barrage of machine gun fire that had been besieging the bullets fired by the oncoming infantry men were few. Blaise's mortars struck the horde. Men were sent into the air in pieces and many lost life and limb to shrapnel. The bombardment of Aerugonian artillery thinned out the enemy's ranks but many still came. The firing of allied machine guns was replaced by the dry clicking of machine guns without ammunition. Because all of the ammunition had been expended many men drew out their hand spades or pointed their bayonets towards the horde.

Blaise drew his Katana from its sheath at his hip. It was a magnificent sword. The handle was decorated with black cloth that sat over an onyx wood in an interwoven pattern. The blade was an iridescent silver hue and it reflected the rays of the sun in a luminous fashion. It had a blood vane and foreign symbols running down its whole length. Resting above the ornate handle was a circular cross guard of silver metal, and gorgeous design. He took the sword in both hands and crouched down, preparing for the onslaught.

Mascari bent down and snarled, "We are not going to be able hold this trench."

Blaise ignored him. There was no room for doubt in Blaise's mind. If he let this trench fall the entire Aerugonian front would be pushed back considerably.

"For Aerugo!" Blaise roared and his men echoed even louder, "for Aerugo!"

The Amestrians poured into the trench. Several dozen got impaled on the Aerugonians bayanets, and then the fighting began in earnest. It was a sea of blood, men, and pain. Blaise cut his way through the enemy ranks, his sword glinting in delight as it bathed in the blood of those who fell victim to it. Blaise danced his way through, seamlessly cutting the men apart, and never stopping his flawless combination of attacks. One man charged towards Blaise poised to skewer him on his bayonet. Blaise knocked the gun out of the man's hands and proceeded to jump forward execute three swift kick with alternating legs to the man's gut, lifting him off the ground. Continuing with his momentum Blaise roundhouse kicked him to the face spun around and axe kicked him down to the ground, hard.

Blaise beheld the vicious, and inhuman battle taking place all around him. An Aerugonian equipped with a hand shovel was on top of an Amestrian, and hacking away at the man's head, even though the man was clearly dead, seeing as the contents of his skull were strewn about next to what used to be his head. A group of three hostiles had an Aerugonian pinned to the trench wall with their bayonets, and continued to impale him until they themselves fell victim to bayonets. In the middle of the fray an Amestrian stood and he laughed maniacally as he beheld the piece of shrapnel lodged in his abdomen, and the blood gently seeping out of the wound. Greatly outnumbering Blaise's men, the Amestrians were gradually gaining the upper hand.

Another man came charging towards Blaise, hand upraised and in his hands was a saber; an officer. The man was interrupted when a bullet tore its way through his throat. Gazing in the direction the bullet had come from, Blaise noticed the glint of a sniper's scope coming from a sniper's nest in the distance.

"Finally!" Blaise cheered, "The SASA has finally arrived!" however his excitement was short lived when he noticed a mortar shell descending on his location. Re-sheathing his sword Blaise scrambled to get away, but still got hit by the explosion. Blaise was out cold but still alive.

~End ~

If you guys liked it please comment. Please comment if you didn't like it, as well. Tell me i am a terrible writer if you think i've earned the title. (i think destructive criticism can be more effective than constructive criticism). Also, i am going to add in most to all of the canon characters and there will be romance. :) The next chapter might take me awhile to publish because it's finals week for me. Please be patient with me, I've never done this before.


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